


It’s Going to be Okay (Please Trust Me)

by Jetti



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, First Day of School, Friendship, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-19 23:01:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18980119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jetti/pseuds/Jetti
Summary: This takes place in the "I'm Not Okay" school. Frank is the smart kid that skips a few grades.





	It’s Going to be Okay (Please Trust Me)

**Author's Note:**

> Posting old, unfinished work. I do not plan on continuing it.

Frank Iero loves school; there is no doubt about it. Unfortunately, he became susceptible to illnesses very easily as a child, which did not prove at all well to the attentive learner. 

His immune system failed him again in the third grade, the hardest time yet, and he could not attend school. Sure, a few days here and there was normal, but several months was too much. Even so, Frank took it upon himself to learn whatever he could while sick in bed because of his strong will and desire to learn. 

Before long, young Frank had read every book in his bookcase and grew bored of the same stories over and over again; he practically had those all memorized. His mother took notice and brought home new books on various subjects to entertain her ill son and to ensure he would not be left too far behind his classmates due to his absence from school. This went on for quite a while. Each day Mrs. Iero would stop by a shop or two after work and purchase whatever she thought would benefit her little guy the most. She had no idea of the exact impact of her actions that would affect her son forever.

Finally, when he was well enough, Frank returned to school and it wasn’t long before his teacher realized he had surpassed the learning level of his current grade. He was a big fish in a small pond, basically, and a very big fish at that. After his parents received news of their son’s advanced proficiency, they were in awe. The two had been afraid their only son would have to repeat the third grade because of the extended time away from school, yet he apparently knew all he needed to know to pass the year. Frank was given another exam, one that contained essential knowledge to complete the fourth grade. Frank passed this test with flying colors, too. 

To everyone’s surprise, the boy did not do so well on the exam to pass the fifth grade. Although Frank was upset for coming up short, his parents were still overjoyed of his advanced intelligence. The results of the tests placed Frank in the fifth grade, where he could be challenged and learn at the appropriate teaching level.

Frank was comfortable in his newly assigned grade and did his best. He was a bright and smart boy, and although he was unable to skip any more grades, his parents couldn’t be prouder of him. 

After Frank finished the eighth grade, with excellent marks as expected, Mr. and Mrs. Iero agreed to look into private school, opposed to his past public-school education. They wanted their son’s gifts to be nurtured to the best they could provide him as parents, and the environment of a private school seemed acceptable to satisfy their goals. Once they were done their research, Frank’s parents discovered Saint Matthews Academy, a Roman Catholic high school only five miles from their house, was the perfect private school for their son. It was not located too far away and cost a reasonable price. That combination did it for them. 

Frank applied and was accepted to St. Matthews, and that was where he learned his overachievements and enthusiasm in the classroom were not always likable qualities among the student populations. Sadly, Frank was ostracized because of his young age and overzealous attitude when it came to school. It took a little while, but he realized his treatment by fellow classmates did not matter. Frank was there to do what he loved, learn. He was not going to let the negative mindsets of other students bother him; he had bigger things to worry about, like preparation for college. If people were envious of Frank’s intelligence or disliked Frank for his talkativeness and hyperactivity, then so be it. Nothing was going to put a damper on his promising and bright future. 

*

Frank mumbles softly into his pillow in response to the voice of his mother telling him to wake up. It is September 5th, another summer day for some, but to Frank, it is the first day of his junior year in high school. Any day of school is exciting in Frank’s mind, but the first day is one of his favorites. It is a time for a brand-new school year, which means new teachers and subjects and experiences. The thought by itself is enough to make Frank jump out of bed in delight and rush downstairs for breakfast after taking out his retainer and depositing it in his case on the bathroom counter. 

“Good morning, Mom and Dad,” he greets as he enters the dining room. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes, actually, thank you for asking,” Mrs. Iero answers with a pearl-white smile. She has long, light brown hair that reaches about eight inches down from her shoulders and bright blue eyes, her characteristics favoring the northern Italian side of her family with lighter skin. She is rather short, around 5’4’’ and carries her weight in her thighs and chest. She sets the plain red bowl and spoon she is holding in front of Frank’s seat at the table, which faces the window that gives a lovely view of the wooded area adjacent to the house. Since it is only early September, the leaves have not changed color yet, but the green scenery is still beautiful. “What cereal for today, honey?”

“Hmm… Cap’n Crunch, please,” he requests. His mother nods and goes into kitchen to retrieve the aforementioned cereal. Frank sits down in his wooden chair at the table and looks over to his father. “How about you, Dad? Sleep okay?”

“Just fine,” he says after removing the local newspaper from his line of vision to make eye contact with his son. Mr. Iero is age forty-three--two years older than his wife--with short, dark brown hair that matches his eyes. He is one-hundred percent Italian, his parents having been native-born in southern Italy, so he also inherited darker skin along with the taller height of 6’1’’. “Are you ready for school today?”

“Of course,” Frank replies right away. He had gathered his English essay, folders, notebooks, sharpened pencils, pens, highlighters, lunch money, hand sanitizer, gym clothes, calculator, glasses, and class schedule in his messenger bag and had his mother iron his school uniform all the previous night. He is definitely ready for the first day of school, no question. 

His father nods and brings the paper back up to continue reading the sports section and drinking his morning coffee. Frank’s mother walks into the room with Cap’n Crunch and a gallon of whole milk. She places the items on the table by her son with a “Here you are, sweetie” before leaving the room again to prepare her lunch for later in the day. Frank pours the peanut buttery cereal into the bowl and adds the milk until the pieces are all floating in the cold, white liquid. He quickly eats his breakfast, partly from hunger and partly to hurry up for the rest of his routine before school. He is not late or anything, he’s just excited to put on the uniform again. He gets up from the table and pushes in his chair.

“Thanks, Mom,” Frank says as he puts the bowl and spoon in the kitchen sink, milk in the refrigerator, and cereal box in the top white cabinet to the left of the fridge. 

He makes his way upstairs to the bathroom, which is located right across the hall from his bedroom. The fourteen-year-old squeezes the Colgate toothpaste on his blue Oral toothbrush and commences cleaning his teeth. It’s about two minutes into the tooth brushing when the white foam is escaping his mouth, making Frank look like a rabid dog. He pulls a snarling face in the mirror and laughs to himself as he spits then washes out his mouth and toothbrush with tap water. Frank double checks his hands–-especially the back of them–-to ensure the foamy residue is off of them. Next, he gets a different toothbrush ready and scrubs his top and bottom retainer pieces clean and rinses them before putting them back in the dark blue case. 

Next, he pumps the Clean & Clear Foam Facial Cleanser bottle a few times and rubs the gel in his hands until a white lather is created. When it is, Frank massages the lather into the skin of his face. His complexion is clear for the most part, save for the occasional zit or two, and Frank wants to keep it that way. Pimples really hurt sometimes, and he does not like pain. 

He washes off his face and uses a soft hand towel with an embroidered blue jay in the bottom corner to dry his face. Frank then turns to the toilet, putting the seat up, and pulls down his white sweat pants and Sponge Bob Square Pants boxer shorts to relieve his bladder. After about a minute Frank is done and flushes the toilet, putting himself away and the seat back down, and washes his hands with the liquid soap, and then dries his hands for the final time this bathroom session.

Frank crosses the hallway to enter his bedroom, which is neat and tidy as usual. He walks to the back right corner of the room toward the hamper, strips down, and tosses the dirty white tank tops and sweat pants in the hamper. He turns toward his wooden desk in the opposite corner of the room, which has his black socks and shoes by it on the floor, his gray trousers, white button-down collared shirt, tie with a red, blue, and skinny yellow diagonal stripped pattern, and the two golden button-down blue blazer that has three smaller gold buttons on each cuff, the yellow school crest on the left breast, and a small slit in the back laying across the chair. 

The excited boy applies deodorant and dresses as fast as he can, his nimble fingers sliding buttons through holes with practiced ease. He ties the laces to his shiny, black shoes and approaches the mirror mounted on the wall to adjust his tie accordingly. Once he deems his clothing presentable, Frank grabs his many-toothed black comb and runs it through his hair. Since his hair is dry, all the combing does is remove the tangles and not much else. 

Frank grabs the water spritzer and wets his hair, not over doing it or else he may dampen his uniform as well. He puts down the spritzer and combs his hair again, the water having down its job at making Frank’s hair more manageable. Satisfied with the way he has parted his hair on the right side, he adds Spike It gel to style his hair and keep it that way. The longer part of the front section of his hair on the left side stops right in front of his ear and curls in at the end, while the part that is two inches shorter in front of it can sometimes stray away. The front of his hair on the right side is styled similarly, except there is no short piece. The remaining section of his hair is gelled down so all of the area has the product on it, but then slightly spiked up to prevent his hair from being plastered to his head. Frank runs his fingers through it until he knows for sure his hair is perfect. 

He takes his bottle of Purel hand sanitizer to rid his hands of the sticky substance. He exits his room and goes into his parent’s bedroom, because they have a full-length mirror attached to their door. He looks at himself, turns a few times, and deems himself completely presentable and ready for school. 

Frank ventures back into his room for his school supplies. The plain black messenger back is filled with everything he may need, he checked at least three times to be sure the night before. He puts the bag over his right shoulder, adapting the strap a few times until the bag hangs at a comfortable level by his side. Now Frank is officially ready for school. 

He travels down the stairs, skipping a step at a time, and looks around the first level of the house to see where his parents are. His mother is sitting in her place at the dining room table, the seat at the end to the right in correlation to Frank’s seat. She is reading the newspaper while nibbling on a buttered multi-grained bagel, her coffee to wash it down. 

“Are you ready Mom?” Frank questions, his right hand feeling the threaded material of the strap to the messenger bag.

“Yeah, I’m ready, hun,” she retorts and takes her eyes off the newsprint. Mrs. Iero looks her son up and down with a critical eye. “Now, someone’s looking very sharp today.”

Frank smiled widely, the kind of smile that makes anyone who sees it involuntarily smile back without realizing it. “Thank you. Where’s Dad?”

“Getting dressed upstairs, I think. We’ve got time, baby, it’s only seven fifteen,” she says as she looks at the watch on her left wrist that is always correct down to the second. 

She is right. The first bell rings at seven, allowing the students inside the building. The warning bell for homeroom is seven fifty-five, alerting students to cut the chitter-chatter and head toward their respective homerooms, and homeroom starts at eight o’clock on the dot. Frank has plenty of time, but still, he is so excited for this day. 

“I’ll go watch TV, then,” Frank tells his mother and heads toward the living room. He lets his messenger bag slide from his shoulder and gently drops it to the floor. He takes a seat in the gray recliner and turns on the Sylvania television with the remote. He flips to Discovery ID, channel 71, and watches a rerun of Mystery Diagnosis. It is a show where people tell of their horrible symptoms that their doctors could not figure out the reason for it and the people near death until a different healthcare profession figures out the cause and treats it. They are true stories and it makes for an interesting show. Frank has already seen the episode and remembers what happens, so he is not disappointed when his parents are finally ready to leave the house before the show is over. 

St. Matthews Academy is a private school and there is no transportation system like at public school; and because of this, Frank’s parents must drop him off every day. Both of his parents work past the time school ends, so he walks the five miles home. It is not a long walk and Franks enjoys the exercise. The route he takes does not involve any tough neighborhoods and he has been walking home for the past two years; Frank is safe walking alone. 

“Goodbye, sweetie, have a good first day,” Mrs. Iero says and waves as her son exits the backseat of the family car.

“I will,” he promises to his parents. He waves his hand at the departing silver vehicle and turns toward the three-level school building. The outside walls are composed of pale yellow bricks with white framing the large windows and white horizontal stripes connect the bottom on the windows of each floor to one other. The arched doorways and rust-colored roof complete the outward appearance of the private Roman Catholic high school.

Frank walks the familiar light gray pathway leading up to the entrance of the school. Some students clad in uniforms --the girls’ uniform only differing with a gray pleated skirt and knee-high black socks instead of gray trousers-- are socializing outside on the well-kept green grass or leaning against the various trees in front of the school, but Frank does not linger. The school doors are open, ever since seven o’clock, and he would rather be inside the school at the moment. It is not as if he has friends waiting for his arrival; so instead of risking discrimination before school from fellow students by being outside, Frank enters the brown double doors of the building. 

He is greeted by the shiny brown tiles and off-white painted walls of the main lobby; the fresh smell of cleaning products is in the air. Frank opts to visit teachers he has had previous years to pass the time before heading to homeroom, well, one in particular. He goes down the hallway to the right and walks until he reaches his favorite teacher’s room, Miss. Harry. From what he remembers from her last year in English II, the woman in her late twenties has fiery red curly hair that she used to always keep in a bun, out of her face. Frank really enjoyed her teaching style, the way she acted very animated and jokingly to get the students interested. Frank is eager to see her after the summer off. 

“Hello?” he says as the wooden door closes behind him.

“Hello to you, Dr. Iero,” Miss Harry greets after coming out of her hiding place behind a cabinet door. She used to always address students in whatever way she saw fit, and still does, apparently.  
The young teacher has not changed much, save for her hair being cut to about her shoulders and straightened. Today she is dressed in a tasteful green short-sleeved shirt, black dress pants and shoes, and a black tasseled scarf adorns her neck. She approaches Frank and leans down for a hug. “Now, how was your summer, sir?”

“It was nice. I reread the Harry Potter series, Lord of the Rings, and some books my mom gave me,” Frank explains after the hug is over. 

“Good, it is great to know some students are reading books over the break besides the required summer reading."

Frank smiles at the reunion of himself and a person who actually enjoys his company. Having a teacher as a friend is better than nothing. “Was you summer okay?”

“Very much so, Brian and I saw several plays together. Some acting was better than others, but all in all, we had a good time.” Brian is a musician and her boyfriend since around last spring. She had been married for a few years, up until she caught her husband in their bed with another woman, so she says. Ever since she had found Brian, it is obvious how much happier he makes her. “Who do you have for English this year? I noticed you were not on the list of either of my English III classes.”

Frank takes his school schedule he received in the mail out of his messenger bag and scans the white paper. He does require glasses to read but squinting for a moment seems better than taking the unnecessary time to fish his glasses case out of his bag just to read off a single name. “It says I have McDermott for 6th period.” 

“Oh, you’ll do fine. You’re a smart kid and Cynthia isn’t all that bad, except with trouble makers. She really knows how to write out those white cards,” Miss Harry laughs a bit. White cards are slips of paper that are filled out and sent to the Headmaster’s office when a student is insubordinate in class. Of course, Frank has never gotten one, not even close. 

“Yeah, I had for freshman year. She’s a little strict, but not overly. I wish her room didn’t smell like smoke, though.” 

“I know what you mean. I think administrators have talked to her about the cigarette breaks in the classroom during her free periods. She’s a wonderful teacher, just has a bad habit,” the red-head reveals. 

The two chat for a little while longer until the school bell rings, alerting students they have five minutes to reach their homerooms. 

“I’ll see you around, Miss Harry.”

“Same goes for you, sugar bee,” she smiles and embraces Frank before he leaves her classroom. 

Frank has to weave in and out of other students because of their slow-paced, leisurely walking. He hates how crowded the hallways can be. Frank is a little guy, five feet even, and it is easy for other much taller students to be unaware of his presence and bump into him. He may have five minutes, but the fact that the bell rang, and he is racing against the clock causes Frank to feel fearful he could be marked late. He is always rushed in the hallways, even if he reaches the classroom with plenty of time every single day, it does not change anything. Frank likes to be punctual, and that is that. 

He makes it to his homeroom and realizes once he gives the clock a glance, that he is two minutes early. A wave of relief rushes over his body and he takes a look over the classroom. The beige desks are in five perfect rows facing the chalkboard. The blinds are up, and the windows allow the natural sunlight to seep into the room. It seems not many things are hung up to decorate the classroom, making it seem bare. 

Frank shrugs and takes a seat in the nearest desk, sliding his messenger bag off his shoulder and next to his feet on the floor. Actually, because of Frank’s short stature, he does not fully touch the floor, only the balls of his feet do. More students file in until just about thirty seconds are left before homeroom begins, and there is no sign of a teacher. No one talks to Frank or even looks at him, and he is fine with that. He would rather be ignored than made fun of. Finally, a mere second before the bell rings, a blonde woman appears in the doorway, looking a little frazzled.

“Hello, everyone, sorry I’m late. I had forgotten something in my car,” she elaborates. “Moving on, welcome to your first day of your junior year. My name is Mrs. Koberlein or Mrs. K, and I will be your homeroom teacher this year.”

She writes her name on the board with chalk in neat cursive handwriting. Mrs. K turns back to face the class and instructs, “If you could take out your completed green medical forms and pass them up your row that would be great. I will allow you all to sit wherever you choose, as long as it does not become too rowdy in here. If that is the case, I will have to give you all assigned seats, and no one wants that, right?” 

Frank shakes his head while the rest of the class either grumbles a ‘no’ or does not respond at all to her question.

“I thought as much,” she says and collects the green cards and places them on her desk in the front right corner of the classroom. She flips open a black notebook and has a pencil in her left hand. “I will be calling role now. Please be quiet, I need to hear everyone. Listen for your name, raise your hand and say ‘here’ so I can match the name with a face, and not have to go through the list verbally every day.” 

Mrs. Koberlein slowly goes through each name and takes a second to look at the student who speaks. 

“Frank I-er-o,” she says, looking around the room.

Frank raises his hand, but corrects her with, “It’s I-year-o.”

She apologizes for her mispronunciation and finishes off the list. “Okay, it looks like everyone’s here, that’s good. Here are your agenda books.”

Mrs. K passes out the miniature blue and white notebooks with the year, school name, and mascot on the front. “Remember, do not lose these. They are your only passes for the bathroom, library, and etcetera. Make sure to write your name in them so if one is lost, it can be returned to the proper owner. The school rules are the first pages in the front, and the last pages in the back are your hall passes that you need to have filled out by a teacher in order to enter the hallways. I know you’ve heard this speech the past two years, but I have to say everything, or I get in trouble.” 

Frank does as he is told and takes out a black pen, writing Frank Iero quite clearly on the first page. 

“Are we clear? Good. All right, I have your locker numbers and combinations, so please come up when I call your name, write down the numbers I give you in your agenda book, and go out to the hallway to test it. Do not give out your combination. There were many items stolen from lockers by people who were careless last year. Please do not be one of those people.”

Frank sits in his seat, waiting patiently for his name to be called. When it is, he receives his combination and finds his locker to the right of the classroom. All of the lockers are a white color to contrast the blue walls of the hallway, their school colors. Frank gets the combination right on the first try and he swiftly closes it to return to homeroom. He normally would not be in homeroom for such a long time, but because it is the first day of school, and introductions and locker assignment are time consuming and necessary, homeroom is extended until to eight forty-three instead of the regular eight-eleven. Frank sits back down in his seat, which is the first desk in the first row located by the door and waits for further instruction. 

Once the last person is seated, Mrs. K speaks again, “Okay. That is about it. For those of you who did not turn in your medical form, the deadline is Friday. If there is something wrong with your schedule or you would like to change it, fill out a white slip and send it down to your guidance counselor. Last names beginning with A through Bo have Mrs. Castleberry, Br through E have Ms. Donnelly, F through J have Mr. Terry, K through M have Mr. Cornacchia, N through Si have Mrs. Wilson-Hill, and Sk through Z have Mr. Kirschner. There is a map of the school on the back of your agenda books so for those of you who are new this year cannot get lost. Any questions?”

No one speaks up. The homeroom teacher smiles and goes back to her desk and sits in her wheel-y chair, her job being done for the moment. 

While other students talk with others around them, Frank flips through his newly acquired agenda book. He marks important days, like his and his parents’ birthdays and thumbs through the school rules at the beginning, to see if much has changed since the previous year. After a while, Frank moves his gaze toward the analog clock on the wall above the door. There is about two minutes left before the bell rings, dismissing them to first period. He takes out his schedule, looks at the room number of his next class and folds up the schedule twice, slipping it in his agenda book and putting it in his messenger bag. He sits in his seat, the anticipation rising with each passing second until the bell rings.

At the sound, Frank quickly puts the strap to his bag over his right shoulder and is the first person to leave the room. A good thing about being the first to leave means less people in the hallway to slow others down on their way to class. That is something Frank learned right away freshman year and it holds true to this day. 

He gets to Algebra II with time to spare, a few students already sitting in desks. Frank sits down in one in the center row up front. After the bell rings, the announcements are spoken over the speaker. They start by standing for the pledge of allegiance, then sit and listen to Headmaster Vicente welcoming everyone to the new school year. He continues his speech, laying out dates for important events for the year like picture day, homecoming, junior prom, senior prom, senior trip, and after school clubs and activities that are available. He concludes his speech with a “Have a nice day.”

“Now that that is over, we can begin class,” says a tall, thin blonde woman who is standing in front of the class. “My name is Mrs. McGuinness,” she indicates with a wave on the hand to the white board, where her name is written. “And welcome to Algebra II. I am assigning your seats alphabetically.”

The class groans and makes other negative noises.

“Oh, quit your bellyaching. It is only so I can memorize all of your names quicker. If you behave, I will let you sit wherever you want later. Please sit where I tell you for now.”

She goes down the list, taking attendance as well as making a new seating chart in the process. Frank is placed two seats from the front, so he is not too disappointed by the move. Mrs. McGuinness passes out the syllabus for the year which matches most classes. It is twenty-five percent classwork and homework, twenty-five percent class participation, and fifty percent test and quizzes. She hands out a mathematics worksheet for the students to complete to the best of their ability, and if they do not finish before the bell, then it is homework. 

Frank is doing pretty well, but forgets a few things, since he had Algebra I freshman year and Geometry last year, so some things are a little difficult to remember. Nonetheless, Frank finishes the paper with time to spare, puts the paper in his red folder labeled Algebra II and checks his schedule to see what room he is going to next. The bell rings and Frank is off to U.S. History II, which is his only honors level class, the rest are regular. 

People in Frank’s class are assigned seats again. The teacher’s name is Mr. Reed and he has a genuine smile. After he hands out the syllabus and the course break-down for the year, he explains that he will treat his class like it is college level. No funny business. If any student chooses to blow the class off and not do their work, then they can go to their guidance counselor and switch out, because he will not tolerate anything less. 

A bunch of kids shift uncomfortably in their desks after the teacher’s serious words. Frank laughs a little internally, thinking they will probably be the first to go to guidance and have their schedules changed, but not Frank. He is going to stick with his classes and do his best as always. 

Next, heavy textbooks are given out and the students call out the numbers written in their books so Mr. Reed can write them down. People have been known to take other students’ books and writing their own names in them when it is time at the end of the year to hand them back. This system prevents such a thing from happening. The rest of the class is a free period (probably their first and last in U.S. II) and Frank busies himself in memorizing his schedule and room numbers. Frank is a little upset, originally thinking he would be learning something in each period of the day. 

He has Theology III third period, and just about the same thing happens like the previous period. All except the promise of a college level year, that is. Mrs. Pearlman is a nice elderly woman and Frank had her for Theology I and II, so he absolutely knows this year will not be any different. Besides, she really likes Frank and thinks him to be one of her favorite students. He and the teacher actually chat a little bit before the end of class, which makes some students look at Frank negatively. Frank ignores the glares as if they are not there.

Fourth period is Business Economics with Mrs. Hughes, a middle-aged mother of three. Frank has not had her before and she is shocked to see how little he is. Frank explains of his age and she is in awe, having never taught a student who has skipped any grades. Once again, some students’ eyes burn the back of Frank’s skull, supposed hatred and feeling of inferiority. Yet again, Frank ignores them, in hopes they stop. He wishes for the teachers in the rest of his classes do not call him out in such a way again. Frank wants to have the freedom to learn, but not to have attention drawn to him along with death glares. The distribution of textbooks and summarization of the year is all that takes place in the classroom.

Spanish III is his next class, which creates a glad feeling inside Frank. Any foreign language class usually means students in mixed grades would compose the class, since a student can choose between Spanish, French, German, Italian and Latin each year, not being forced to take the same language throughout high school. He is proven right when the rest of his fellow classmates enter, it being obvious from the range of height and body development that not everyone shares a similar age. Now he is not going to be singled out, which is a very good thing. 

Mrs. Barnes is a nice Spanish woman –sans accent when speaking English—and tells students ahead of time that now they are in Spanish III, English in her classroom will be set to a minimum. With that, the rest of the period she speaks Spanish and a small percentage of the class, including Frank, actually understand what she is saying. The rest of the students either stare out into space, waiting for class to be over, or look around with confused faces. Either way, it is simple to tell who is prepared for the course and who is not. It’s kind of entertaining, really. 

Frank rushes to the cafeteria for lunch, dodging other students as usual, but it is not harder because of the added weight from textbooks he has acquired during the day. He grabs a red tray from the multicolored stack and stands in line patiently. He is not excessively famished, but there is a slight rumble in his stomach that can only be satisfied with food. He decides to buy grilled cheese and a hash brown with a half-pint of white milk. Frank pays the lunch lady at the cash register the $2.50 for the meal and walks out the side door of the school.

The best part of being an upper classman is the privilege of eating lunch outside. There is an abundance of picnic tables, but Frank chooses to sit a stone step of the series of eight steps leading to a flat and empty platform instead. There is a reason behind it. If he had sat at a picnic table, that meant the possibility of someone approaching him, and maybe even forcibly removing Frank from his seat in order for that someone and their friends to sit there. Frank is only one person and the thought of just him taking up a picnic table is not a smart move if he wants to avoid confrontation. Sitting alone is the best thing for him to do. 

Frank can see that other individuals have the same idea as him. A few other students quietly take a seat on a stone step, not too close to Frank but a minimum of ten steps away. He applies his hand sanitizer before taking a single bite of food. As Frank eats his hash brown, he can see the others on various steps beginning to consume their cafeteria food or brown bag lunches out of his peripheral vision. He keeps his eyes focused on the lunch of his lap for a while, finally moving on to the grilled cheese. 

The next time Frank looks up, it is just in time to witness a guy sitting at a picnic table with a varsity jacket on put his leg out in front of another student who is reading with a book in one hand and carrying a cafeteria tray in the other. The unsuspecting student lets out a quick yell of surprise as he falls forward, dropping his book and lunch on the ground, and thankfully prevents himself from falling face-first on the concrete with the help of his hands and knees. That looks like it hurts.

The table consisting of varsity jacket wearers and their companions erupt into laughter at the poor student’s expense, alerting others of the situation and making them to look over to see what the commotion is about. Frank watches in sympathy as the tripped student wipes off his hands and picks up his fallen belongings with his head down, long black hair hiding his face. He walks up the stone stairs where Frank is sitting, still concealing his face behind a curtain of hair, and stations himself on the flat platform at the top.

A lot of students are continuing to laugh and converse about what had taken place a moment prior, not bothering to keep it to whispers while the student behind Frank can hear exactly what they are saying. Frank positions his body to the right, pretending to look at the trees that surround the area, but really to check up on the student he does not know. The guy seems to be content with drinking his dented half-pint of iced tea and checking his book for any damages. Frank notices the male does not have much of a lunch, since most of the salad had fallen on the ground. 

“Hey,” Frank says to the person sitting on the platform, who does not respond. He repeats himself and the guy looks up, revealing his hazel eyes and pink cheeks from embarrassment and possibly anger. “Do you want a half of my grilled cheese? I noticed all you have is your drink and I thought maybe—”

“No,” the guy cuts him off sharply, causing Frank to stop talking and frown a bit. “Thanks, but I don’t take handouts.” 

His voice sounds certain and final to Frank’s ears, so he turns his back to the student and sticks with eating his grilled cheese in silence. 

The bell rings, instructing students to head to their sixth period class. Frank throws out his trash and stacks his tray on top of the pile of dirty ones. Without even looking at his schedule, Frank knows he is going to English class with Miss McDermott.

She is a fair woman; her face aging more than she is from the years of cigarette smoking. Surprisingly, her room does not smell of it, only her clothing. Miss Harry must have been right when she told Frank the administration was going to talk to Miss McDermott about that certain issue. 

The teacher hands out a syllabus, just like all of the other teachers earlier in the day and talks about the types of books and topics they will be covering throughout the school year. She collects the essays on the summer reading students were required to complete over the summer and says the grade will be a 0 otherwise. Also, she passes out a packet of Latin derivatives to be completed for Monday. It is not difficult to fill in the blank with the word bank, but the amount of questions is the time-consuming part. Miss. McDermott explains that they will receive a packet every two weeks and be tested on the first fifteen Latin words the first Friday after the packet is due, and the next week there will be a test on the last fifteen Latin words. Some students moan and groan, complaining how long it is and try to negotiate, but Miss McDermott is not having any of it and says it is either her rules or out of the classroom. No one speaks out after that. Frank snickers a bit and writes down the homework in his agenda book. He actually has work to do now! 

Frank has to go upstairs to the science wing for Chemistry class. Tackling the stairs is probably the worst part of the day, especially with guys trying to look up the girls’ uniform gray skirts as they are walking up. That type of behavior is immature and distasteful in Frank’s mind. It is a Roman Catholic high school after all. Aren’t the students there supposed to be polite and well-behaved? He thinks back to the incident at lunch and crushes the thought. Students are as rotten as they want to be, despite their religious upbringing.

Frank enters his classroom and takes the closest desk to the front available. There are stools and white lab tables with sinks in the back because it is a science classroom. Frank knows they will be doing their lab experiments back there, though they will be completely different than dissecting dead animal carcasses like in Biology last year. Frank hated that portion of the school year, which is why he always did the paperwork section of the lab while his partner, who called him a pussy for not wanting to gut the poor thing, did the dissections. Thankfully, this year deals with chemicals and no harm to animals will take place whatsoever.

The middle-aged teacher hands out the syllabus before saying anything in his stereotypical monotone voice that all science teachers seem to have. “Okay, gang. My name is Mr. Bavins and I am your Chemistry teacher for the year. I know you have been hearing the same old speech all day, so I’ll spare you. However, there are some rules in this room that I would like you to follow, in addition to the school rules you know. Now kids, please speak in this room as if you are at home. I do not go home and call my wife a ‘ho’ and my son a ‘fag’, so I would appreciate it if you wouldn’t use those words here.”

Frank and a number of his peers gasp in response to their teacher’s words. The question “Did he just say that out loud?” is going through the students’ heads if not verbalized.

“Okay, I am now passing out a paper that will be a study guide for your Safety quiz this Friday, which is tomorrow, and our Lab day for the rest of the year. If you do not pass with an 80 or more, then you cannot participate in any Labs until you do pass it. We are dealing with chemicals here, gang. They aren’t things you can go about handling without being aware of the safety precautions listed on your worksheet.”

“Is the quiz going to be hard?” a girl Frank does not know asks after raising her hand.

“No, it will be a relatively easy quiz as long as you use common sense and the information I just gave you. You should all be in good shape,” Mr. Bavins answers. He then focuses his attention to the whole class. “I will be handing out your books, assigning your lab partners for the year and the rest of the period is yours.”

Mr. Bavins gives the decent-sized textbooks to the person at the beginning of the row and they have to pass the rest back. 

“I put all of your names into my computer and the program paired the names together randomly, so you cannot blame me if you dislike your partner. If things become too complicated for a group to complete a Lab, then I will consider a reassignment. Now listen for your name and pick a lab table.”

Frank hopes his partner is not someone who will bully him or a slacker who will make him do all the work. Both scenarios are as possible as they are undesirable. When Frank’s name is called, he picks the unoccupied table a few steps away from his desk. The Chemistry teacher checks off his name on the attendance sheet and flips back to the piece of paper with the lab partner.

“Gerard Way,” he says. 

Frank does not recognize the name and looks up to see his fate. He almost gasps a second time that period when he sees that his lab partner is the student who was tripped in front of all the upperclassmen who had lunch two periods ago, the guy who denied Frank’s offering of half a grilled cheese sandwich. The student, Gerard, gathers his things and approaches Frank, sitting in the stool adjacent to the fourteen-year-old. Frank does his best to refrain from eye contact for as long as he can. 

“That is it for today, gang. Remember to cover your books and look over the Safety rules for the quiz Friday,” Mr. Bavins says before retiring to his chair behind his desk.  
Frank takes a soundless, calming breath and turns toward the other teenager. “So, I guess this means we’re lab partners.”

“Yep, that’s what he said,” Gerard responds emotionlessly, while drawing on –or maybe writing, Frank cannot tell—something with his head down and left arm blocking anyone’s view. 

Frank wants to talk to Gerard, he really does, but the older teen’s current body language is practically screaming that he does not want to be bothered by anyone. Frank is intimidated by this and weighs his options. He can start a conversation, maybe get on good terms with the guy, or, more than likely, get a death glare in return for his efforts. Sadly, he has been turned down and ridiculed by those in his grade who he has attempted to befriend in previous years that it seems like a lost cause. At the same time, there is something… special about Gerard. Frank doesn’t know what, can’t describe it in the proper words, but he can feel it, like an unknown force is drawing him to his lab partner, something strange. 

In the end, Frank decides not to speak with Gerard—well, at the moment in time, anyway. They are going to be stuck with each other for the rest of the school year, so there is no point in adding on more strikes to his already blemished record in Gerard’s book. If anything, Frank will wait until the other boy is in a better mood and state of mind before he tries anything. He wants to figure out what is pulling him to Gerard, why exactly Frank cannot drop the situation and forget about it like he normally would. Right then and there, Frank finalizes his goal to make a friend this year, his target being Gerard. The stunt at lunch has crippled Frank’s possibility to make a friend that day, but it’s only the first day of school; he has plenty of time to reach his goal. 

The bell sounds, signaling students to leave for their last period of the day. Frank knows the people in his chemistry class are also going to be in his physical education class as well. The school sets up schedules so there are double periods for labs in science, and the students are to miss gym class and not an important academic class.

There are two identical gymnasiums, one for freshmen and sophomores, and the other for juniors and seniors. Frank enters the one on the left and searched for his teacher, Coach A, which is easier to remember than his full name, Adamkiewicz. What a mouthful. The rather enthusiastic and somewhat eccentric man is standing in front of the pulled out blue bleachers, waiting for his students to arrive. Frank sits on the bleacher seat closest to the ground and starts looking through his agenda book. He knows his fellow students automatically go higher up on the bleachers so their conversations cannot be easily overheard by hovering teachers.

Coach A. whistles loudly with his two fingers to get the students’ attention, causing many to cover their ears in pain, including Frank who is one of the nearest people to him. Ouch.

“Okay, kids. If you don’t already know, my name is Coach A. I am your physical education teacher and health teacher for the third marking period. You are required to wear your gray shirt, blue shorts, and sneakers to class every day or points will be taken from your grade. Points will also be taken away if you choose not to participate, so I recommend you put forth effort each day. Today we’re selecting activities. You have a choice between dodge ball with Miss Gray, physical fitness with Mrs. Teesdale, floor hockey with me, and track with Mr. Becker. You’ll be called after the seniors to pick, but first, attendance.” 

As his teacher is going down the list of names, Frank thinks about what gym activity will be best. Dodge ball is a definite no; Frank has experienced how brutal his classmates can be freshman year, when he was pummeled with the red, rubber balls by the guys who hated him and could throw hard and accurately. There is no way he would voluntarily choose such a fate. Physical fitness is an aerobics class, something all the girls pick, and Frank does not want to be singled out as the only male. Hockey? Ha ha, it is a joke to even consider that as an option since most guys select that activity where they are allowed to knock into other classmates as much as they desire. Track is the only good choice. All there is to do is walk on the track outside the entire period and full participation credit is given. That’s it. Frank can do walking easily.

Frank raises his hand when his name is called and begins completing his English homework, his only homework besides studying for Chemistry. He is about a quarter of the way done when the junior class is called over to the tables with white paper and pencils. The students are to write down their name clearly along with their lab day (if they have one) on whatever activity paper they want unless the class is full. Frank waits patiently in the large cluster of people, unable to see which paper is where. He finally gets to the front area, finds the paper for track and writes his information on the list, seeing as the cut off line has not been reached. He returns to his respective seat and continues his homework, blocking out the loud conversations his classmates are saying. 

The last bell of the day sounds, and everyone is free to go home. Frank puts away his English packet in the black folder, into his messenger bag, and clicks the clasps shut. Adjusting the strap on his shoulder, he makes his way through the busy hallways and out the school entrance to leave. Frank rushes not only to arrive home quicker so he can tend to his homework, but to avoid any other students who may want to start a confrontation with Frank like previous years. 

The main two people who do more than silently glare and dislike Frank are Nick Dirrado and Chris Orlando. They absolutely hate the young Iero boy with a passion and for no logical reason whatsoever. It’s as if they enjoy causing Frank such distress with name calling, taunting, and sometimes physical altercations. When the third one comes up, Frank usually curls into a little ball if he cannot get away and hides any injuries from his parents. If his mom and dad do find out, they make such a fuss over it. He despises being treated like a helpless child and would rather conceal his wounds than worry his parents.

Frank makes it through his journey without any unpleasant surprises and takes in the beautiful forestry next to the road he is walking by. He can spot chirping birds, squirrels, and colorful butterflies among the plant life. Frank loves nature. In the summer and spare time during the school year, Frank usually goes outside and sits under or in a tree. The fact that he lives next to the woods makes it that much easier to bask in the nature he loves. That is where Frank gets a lot of his thinking done as well. Being away from people and society in general is a relaxing, wonderful feeling, as if Frank has a place of solitude where no one can bother or hurt him.

Once he approaches his house, Frank takes out his bronze-colored house key from outside zipper pocket of his messenger bag. He unlocks the front door and relocks it when inside. Locking all the doors and windows gives Frank a sense of security when he’s home alone. Frank knows he could never fight an intruder if one was to break into the house; he is much too shrimp-y and weak to do much at all if put into that situation. 

The boy automatically goes upstairs to his bedroom, unties and takes off his shoes, and sits at his desk to complete the rest of his homework. It’s around three-thirty when Frank sighs and puts away his English packet, and then moves on to studying the chemistry worksheet until he is sure he knows all there is to know about lab safety. He always gets a sense of accomplishment when finishing homework and projects, like a weight has lifted from his shoulders and there is nothing to worry about for the rest of the day. 

A gurgling stomach tells Frank he is due for his afterschool snack. He stretches back in his wooden chair, hands extended above his head, and he makes his way to the kitchen. His socks make a soft swooshing sound against the linoleum tiles as his small feet skitter across the kitchen floor. Frank opts for a juicy red apple from the fridge and glass of water. He takes the aforementioned snack into the living room to watch Law & Order: SVU on the USA channel. Although it’s halfway through the episode, he enjoys seeing how the episodes pans out, be it a new episode or one Frank had already seen. It happens to be the latter, but Frank cannot remember how it exactly ends so it is still interesting. 

His parents return hours later, and they all sit down in the dining from for dinner. Frank’s mother is serving delicious chicken thighs and rice, and the family converses with one another about their day, current news, and just about anything. After dinner, Frank reads a few chapters in the fictional book his mother gave him and before he knows it, it is time to get ready for the next day of school. 

Frank begins his nighttime preparations with stripping off his uniform and hopping in the shower. He washes the gel out of his dark hair and then works on his body with a bar of Dove soap. Once squeaky clean, he dries himself off with a cream-colored towel and wrapping it around his waist. He moves toward the sink and brushes his teeth for about two minutes, flosses, and puts in his retainer. After that, Frank washes his face with Clearasil like he did that morning and heads back to his room. 

He locks the door before dropping his towel and hanging it on a hook to dry. He grabs his hairbrush and runs it through his damp hair, ensuring fewer tangles for when he wakes up. Frank takes out a pair of black and yellow Batman boxers, a black t shirt, and gray sweatpants from his drawers, and dresses. He gives his parents a hug and kiss goodnight, turns out the light, and snuggles in his blankets, ready for sleep. 

The time before Frank drifts off to sleep is when he thinks the most. The room is dark and quiet, and Frank can relax and let his mind run wild. His thoughts sift through his day of school and focus on the poor kid during lunch. Should Frank have pushed Gerard harder when offering a slice of his grilled cheese? It was obvious the teen didn’t have anything else to eat. If he had been more insistent, would Gerard have been his friend already? And the interaction in chemistry class, should Frank have attempted to talk with the guy further? After all the ‘should have’ questions, Frank thinks of Gerard as a person, and if he would accept or reject Frank’s peace offering. It is worth a try and Frank has nothing to lose. Pretty soon, Frank falls into a lovely slumber.

Frank wakes up and goes through the process of getting ready for school similarly to the day before which will carry out for the rest of the school year. Not much changes in his morning activities since he is going to same place every day. Frank finds the best way to time manage and sticks with what works. The only difference would be if he woke up late or his parents were off schedule themselves.

His parents drop him off at school and all Frank can think about is his chemistry class. He knows if he approaches Gerard in fifth period, there is a chance others at lunch will cause a scene of some sort. Frank does not like those chances and decides chemistry is the best place to try to make a friend. 

*

 

Frank sits there for a few minutes, watching the boy as he thinks of right words to say, something to prevent Gerard from giving him a death glare of some kind. He can deal with being ignored, sure, no problem, but not when he actually wants to be heard by the person. Frank sighs, “Okay, look. I’m sorry about earlier. I wasn’t giving you a handout or anything. I felt bad you didn’t have any food and wanted to help. I wanted to help you.”

“Really?” he questions, his eye connecting with Franks with the other is blocked by his black hair. Frank must have sounded earnest to have Gerard react in such a way and look at him. 

“Yes, really. What those jerks did was stupid, immature, and downright ridiculous. You could have broken your nose or something if your reflexes weren’t so up to speed.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he says while leaning up from his previous hunched over position and rubbing his knee absently though his pants.

“Are you hurt? You came really hard against the concrete.”

Gerard pulls his hand away from his injury and explains, “I’m not hurt too badly; I’ve had worse. It’s just some scratches on my palms and bruising on my knees. I’ll live.” 

“All right. That’s good, then.” Frank does not exactly know what to say after that. He has not actually had a real conversation with any of the people in his grade since before private school and no one’s willingly talked to up until now. He is glad he got Gerard talking, so glad, but how does he keep him talking?

“So, I guess this is the part where I apologize for being a jerk to you at lunch?” He is looking at Frank without hair covering his face this time, resting his chin on his palm and elbow on the white lab table. His look is suspicious, like he thinks Frank wants something from him. 

“Oh, no. You don’t have to do that. I can understand why you said what you did. I probably would have done the same thing if in that type of situation,” Frank assures. 

Gerard chuckles a little bit. “Okay, sure.” 

Frank is beginning to think talking with others that are in his grade isn’t so hard. Sure, he can talk to his parents and teachers at school, but never students. They usually get annoyed by Frank’s hyperactive and enthusiastic personality about certain things quickly, and then brush him off. But not Gerard, he isn’t pushing Frank away, at least not yet. “So, what do we do now?”

“Eh, we have about…” Gerard looks at the clock above the door. “Ten minutes left of class and I wanted to finish some drawings.”

“You draw?”

Frank’s facial expressions display his interest plainly for Gerard to see. He wants to prove to Gerard that he isn’t like any of those people who laughed at him earlier. Not at all like them. “Yeah, I doodle random crap in class when there’s free time like this. I’m in Studio Art III this year,” he finally gets out.


End file.
